Cleaning to Flourgis
by Eidolon Wisp
Summary: The only thing worse than the state of the ship was the summoner's reaction to the Mimics. Oneshot.


She held untold magickal powers--powers to aid, powers to heal, but most of all powers to put a serious hurting onto anything that stood in her way.

She was a summoner, one of those gifted viera with the power to call forth great beings from a realm of magick, never seen by any resident of Ivalice.

She was valiant in battle--never one to flee from a fight, and never one to leave a teammate behind.

She had been through many a conflict, nearly always coming out the victor.

And she had been deployed for the glorious task of cleaning an airship.

Glinta narrowed her eyes as she surveyed the deck. The floorboards were sticky, the metal portions were rusted, someone had painted graffiti stating their desire to perform depraved acts upon the Prima Donnas, and she could see remnants of vomit encrusted on the floor.

That Luso boy had sent them into a battlefield worse than any Glinta had ever seen before. The hume hadn't even had the courtesy to suffer along with his clanmates!

She had no idea why everyone listened to him. He was a complete newcomer to the clan, and to the world for that matter. She suspected that it had something to do with that grimoire he always carried with him.

A dark grimoire it must be, to send him her way.

The first time she'd ever really questioned Cid's sanity was when he'd permitted Luso to name the clan.

Gully! What a ridiculous name! How would anyone take them at all seriously?

She sighed. That was neither here nor there.

"It is time," Glinta said, her voice resigned, "to clean."

She had been assigned a duty. She would not fail to complete it, no matter how distasteful it seemed.

As if summoned by her voice, a group of Mimics floated slowly up onto the airship deck, their fingers wiggling ominously.

Glinta's eye twitched. She had some... bad Mimic-related memories. Best not to dwell on those too much.

Suddenly, she broke out into a ferocious smile, clutching her staff more tightly.

Soberg, the seeq ranger, took one look at her expression and edged slowly away. His experiences in Clan Gully had taught him much about getting along with members of other species, and with Glinta in particular. Glinta the serious, dutiful viera who never seemed to get excited about anything at all. If she smiled, it was a faint, demure sort of thing.

This feral grin on her face could mean nothing good.

And... sweet Scions, was she_ giggling_?

"They're elementally vulnerable," she said softly.

"Eh? What to?" Not that Soberg actually made much use of elemental weaknesses. He much preferred to load up on items and chuck mirrored versions at his foes.

"_Everything._" The viera looked once again over the Mimics. "We are going to select MP Boost as our clan privilege."

"Um, sure." It didn't particularly matter to Soberg, and he sensed that it might be best to let his clanmate have her way at the moment.

He sensed his fellow clanmates shifting uneasily. "Er, shall we get started with the cleaning?"

"Yesss..."

Before anyone could make a move, the Mimics surged forward, making Thunder-element attacks with a flick of their fingers and a quick gesture.

Glinta growled softly.

Soberg had never before heard a viera growl. He hoped never to hear it again.

He was suddenly very, very glad that he was on the same team.

Striding purposefully forward, she closed her eyes, lifted her hands, and called out to the world of spirits.

Ifrit answered, appearing out of thin air and roaring, his body engulfed by flames. A small group of Mimics writhed in pain before falling to the ground, too weak to float.

Roaring triumphantly, Ifrit disappeared.

It was now Soberg's turn, and he strode forth to scrub one of the wings (which were stained with something that looked disturbingly like blood.)

"Stop."

Soberg stopped and looked back at Glinta.

"Kill them first," she said, pointing at the Mimics. "Then we can clean."

Soberg hesitated. The quest discription had said nothing about killing Mimics, just cleaning the airship. If they were to dally too much...

On the other hand, Soberg had no particular desire to get on Glinta's bad side. He'd been on the wrong side of a Thundara casting before. He had no idea how bad a Ramuh casting would be, and he didn't fancy finding out.

"Yes ma'am," said the seeq. He went for the nearest Mimic and chucked a Mirror Potion at it. The Mimic faded away.

When Glinta's next turn came up, there were only two more Mimics left, close enough to be hit by a single summon.

Again, the viera selected Ifrit. "Burn," she whispered as Ifrit appeared once more. The Mimics obliged, both fading away as they were defeated.

Soberg was relieved. Finally, they might actually get some cleaning done.

The loudspeakers suddenly blared "Warning: the airship will soon be arriving at Flourgis station."

_Oh, crap. There's no way we can get this finished in time._

_Might as well do as much as we can._

Fortunately, Soberg had moved far enough that the bloodstain was no longer the closest target, rather...

_Vomit. Oh, joy._

Sighing, he set to scrubbing.

They had gotten perhaps half of the ship clean before the airship set down in Flourgis. They had failed in their mission.

Everyone but Glinta seemed dejected as they filed off the ship.

She was wearing a wicked smile, which on a viera could mean either something very good or very bad. In this case, probably the latter.

"They _burned,_" she said.

Soberg made a mental note to burn all of the gloves he owned, just as soon as he got back from the pub.

He could use a drink about now.


End file.
